Prove It
by imagineit91
Summary: Joan O. Fletcher felt something terrible the night after You-Know-Who was defeated. She felt something so terribly wrong, she let her mask slip in front of her four year old daughter. Charlotte just thought her mother talked funny once until - "Wait, we're moving to England?"
1. Prologue

**So, I decided to get this story rolling.**

**I claim nothing of J.K. Rowling's, only the characters I've made.**

Joan O. Fletcher was a very cautious woman. She would always double check if all of her lights were off at night just in case a fire would start. She would always check the kitchen for any safety hazards when she left her daughter Charlotte-Johanna home alone to go to work.

But what Joan was most careful about was the way she spoke and where she hid her secret.

For you see, Joan is a British witch, once married and now widowed thanks to the War against You-Know-Who. She left for America in favor of having nothing more to do with the wizarding world, taking her unborn daughter with her and raising her with Muggles to keep her safe.

Joan changed her accent and hid her wand in the highest and furthest corner of her closet so that her daughter's curiousity could not reach or even spot the magical stick.

However, when Charlotte-Johanna turned four, Joan felt _something._ She turned on the television to the world news and saw reports of shooting stars in Kent. She saw reports of "strange-robed men" parading the streets like some sort of...celebration.

It was November 1st, 1981.

You-Know-Who was defeated.

Yet...Joan still felt _something. Something terribly wrong._

She cast a worried look at her little girl, who was coloring a pumpkin with purple and blue crayons, and decided to contact her grandfather in London.

Perhaps it was time to start contemplating going back to Britain.

Perhaps...

"Mama?" Charlotte-Johanna called for her mother, looking up with the bright, silvery eyes that was a strangely dominant trait in her family, "Mama, wha's wrong?"

For once, Joan let her heritage show, "'tis nothing, darling. Mum's just thinking."

That was the only time Charlotte-Johanna heard her mother "talk funny" until she turned ten.

**Review, let me kow how it is. I'm not going to promise consistency in updates.**


	2. Chapter 1

**I couldn't wait to post this chapter. Just couldn't do it.**

**I'll say this one more time:**

**I don't own any of J.K. Rowling's work.**

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><p>When Joan's father replied, the owl he had sent was Gerald. A tawny barn owl, he was very friendly and was Joan's familiar when she had attended Hogwarts.<p>

However, Gerald was not very friendly at all when he had spotted Charlotte-Johanna. He ruffled his feathers and would have attacked the four year old if her accidental magic hadn't kicked in. A few feathers were singed, but the owl refused to go near the little girl.

Thus began the increasing worry for her child. _Of _her child.

Joan wrote back quickly,

_Father,_

_In a few years, I will return, but not to a magical community. A nice, Muggle community will do since that is what seems to fit your granddaughter best right now. _

_Gerald __attacked__ her. I dont know if other magical creatures will do the same, even other animals are hostile towards her. We have a few gold fish, and they seem to be the only non-dangerous animal for Charlotte._

_I have other worries, but you know me, a worry wart. I'll write you again when I'm prepared to come back._

_Love,_

_Joan O. Fletcher_

Joan almost sealed the letter when she had a second thought and grabbed the most recent picture of Charlotte. It was of her in a little witch's hat and cloak from yesterday evening, holding an orange jack 'o lantern candy bucket. Her dark curls were a mess, refusing to be tied back with a simple hair tie, and her pale skin was flushed after running around for candy.

Joan smiled as she sealed the picture in with the letter.

Gerald held out his leg obediently and rubbed against her arm like he used to before taking flight.

When the owl left, Joan went back to her daughter to find her killing with the fish _with magic_.

"Charlotte-Johanna!" she cried, grabbing her tiny little hands and taking her away from the fish bowl. The fish floated to the top.

"Mama, I wasn' doin wrong, I was jus' playing wit the fish-!"

Then Joan saw _it_. _It _was in her eyes.

_It was in her daughter_.

"Get out of my daughter."

Joan started to shake Charlotte-Johanna, yelling.

"Mama? Mama, you're scarin' me-!"

Charlotte-Johanna's tears were wasted as her mother ran down the hall and slammed the door to her bedroom. She was scared. They were both scared. The child grabbed her blanket and huddled in her closet to cry and sleep.

The mother sat and cried in the corner of her own bedroom, facing the closet which held her secret. In the room over, her new secret was sleeping in a closet.

Joan didn't know what to do anymore. She cried to Merlin for help, for any ancient wizardry that would help her save her daughter.

For what she saw in her little girls' silver eyes was not her child, but a spirit.

Maybe more than a few years, maybe five or six years, and Joan would know what to do for her daughter.

For now, it would be best if her daughter forgot about this ordeal.

Joan brandished her willow wand and went into her daughter's room.

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><p>It was June first of the year 1988. Charlotte's last day of fourth grade.<p>

Joan was sweating over the stove cooking beef stew while being cooked by the summer temperatures. The weather report said it would cool down before the storm, as low as the fifties, and beef stew was all she had the ingredients for.

It did help that it was Charlotte's favorite dish.

The blond woman took a moment to wonder when she started to drop the Johanna part of her name.

Oh. Yes. Right after she told her daughter almost everything that she had been hiding these past ten years. Joan thought it went rather well until she assumed that the random explosions and fires would stop because of her daughter's accidental magic. Her own father had told her such strong signs of magic equaled much power, but...

The fire department in this area had been called seventeen times since November second of last year because of Charlotte trying to play with her magic or just losing her temper. Not that they knew it was the small Fletcher family causing the fires, but Joan's job as the sheriff made it easier to handle.

Joan sighed heavily and wiped her sweat before declaring the stew done.

Now it was time to pack.

It took two minutes with magic, it was a two bed room apartment with a combined kitchen and living room. Putting it all into a charmed trunk and a few boxes wasn't difficult.

When she realized she had soaked her shirt with sweat, Joan finally cast a cooling charm through the apartment and went to take a shower.

"Mom? I'm home!"

Charlotte heard the reply from the shower and went to plop down onto the couch. Except there wasn't one.

Her mass of dark hair was pulled back into a thick french braid, many strands sticking to her sunburnt, freckled skin. It annoyed her to no end. She did some research on England and heard it was much milder there than in the Midwest.

Thank God her mother turned on the air conditioning or did magic to make the place cooler.

Charlotte gave herself a bowl of the beef stew while she waited for her mother to get ready to go to England.

She often wondered what this Hogwarts school would be like, but somewhere deep in her mind, she felt like she already knew. She didn't know what exactly she knew, but she knew things.

The ten year old ate three bowls of beef stew before her mother finally was done getting ready and let her shower before her mother Apparated them to their new home.

Joan had explained it as being squeezed through a tube, and that she might feel sick because it was such a long ways away. Her mother had been literally popping back and forth between the two countries to get everything settled, including a new job as an Enforcer at the Ministry of Magic.

Needless to say, they were ready for all but one thing.

POP!

Vernon Dursley was leaving for work early at six AM when he heard a faint popping noise from inside the house that had just sold next door. He paused and looked at the house.

A small, blond woman with shoulder length hair stepped out of her from door and waved at the big British man.

"'ello," she said, her cockney accent only slightly affected from speaking a Midwestern accent for so long, "I'm Joan Fletcher, your new neighbor."

**Reviews do make me happy and faster. Helpful or not.**


	3. Chapter 2

**I honestly don't care at this point, this story is just spilling out.**

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><p>Vernon Dursley was <em>not <em>stupid.

The house had been closed on two weeks ago and from what he had heard around the neighborhood, there hadn't been a vehicle to deliver furniture or belongings. Yet when he spotted the petite woman strolling out of her new home, he saw that at least the living room had been furnished fully when it had been emptied just the day before.

It told him one thing.

This woman was _not_ normal. She was the _not_ normal type like that boy living in the cupboard under the stairs. She was one of _them_.

Nothing and no one would stop him from keeping his household away from _them_.

If anyone asked the workers at Grunnings, Vernon was very short with anyone that day.

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><p>Far away, in a different time and place, a young adult woke up from her nap in her 3 hour history lecture.<p>

_Damn, I drooled again._

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><p>Joan noted that Vernon Dursley was rather too Muggle for her tastes after she went back inside to make a Floo call to her father.<p>

Along with being an Enforcer for the Ministry, Joan took it upon herself to take up wandmaking with her father, Garrick Ollivander. It was a rusty skill for her, not completely new, and she distinctly remembered the summers where she would work with her father, reeking of polish and wood. She had made her own wand as a family tradition when she turned ten with her father's help, and now Charlotte could do the same with her.

Charlotte herself was in the bathroom upstairs, taking turns wretching and laying on the tile floor. She would never do side-along Apparition again, she told herself.

She actually told herself that many times and each time it was a lie. It wasn't until her mother bought a car the following week that she preferred Apparating in comparison to motion-sickness.

As her mother was in and out of the house, Charlotte was given the duty of being the caretaker of the house. Her pale, freckled skin was slathered in sunscreen as she mowed the lawn and weeded the overgrown gardens that were left behind.

Though, two days into her gardening, she realised she had no idea what to plant and went to ask her mother for help one morning before she left for work.

"Ask Mrs. Dursley next door, sorry darling, I don't know much about Muggle gardening myself."

Then her mother left once again.

Then quickly popped back in, "And please do not use the word Muggle, I have a feeling they don't like us magic folk. I left a strawberry rhubarb pie on the counter as a welcoming gift."

"Yes, ok, Mom."

Now Charlotte was actually left home alone again. She pulled on a nice, light blue summer dress that her mother bought for her piano recital this past spring and a pair of white sandals before seeking out Mrs. Dursley's help with the garden. She almost left the house until she passed the mirror by the door and noticed the rats nest of hair atop her head.

How she hated her curly hair. Maybe she could use her magic-

No. No magic. Magic means fire and explosions. Hair and fire don't mix.

Charlotte longed for her mother's help with her hair as she battled the enemy hair with a brush and leave in conditioner for fifteen minutes. She finally managed to untangle it all and put it into her usual thick french braid.

Now, she could go to Mrs. Dursley properly.

The pie was properly cooled by now, though it could have been better warm, but she plodded on over to the front doorstep of the Dursley home and knocked lightly on the door. She saw the curtains shift for a moment, seeing a long necked blond(e) woman checking who was at her front door.

It took a few moments, after hearing voices inside, before Mrs. Dursley opened the door.

"Hello, you're Mrs. Dursley, right? I'm Charlotte Fletcher, I was hoping you could give me some gardening advice. Oh, and my mother made pie for you and your family."

This all came out somewhat fast in her nervousness, but her smile remained steady.

Petunia Dursley was unsure, after hearing her husband speak of the strange neighbors, whether or not to refuse the pie and girl. The girl seemed normal enough, she supposed...

Petunia hesitated and then said, "Why thank you, come on in."

So Charlotte entered and saw the Dursley home. She saw many photos upon the walls of a blond(e), pink faced boy and his parents. The oldest pictures showed that the boy was obviously younger, maybe five or six. Petunia gestured for her to sit down upon the love seat while she placed the pie in the kitchen, where it would probably never been seen again as Charlotte heard heavy footsteps in the hall behind her.

Mrs. Dursley said something to the owner of the footsteps before coming back out to sit across from Charlotte.

"So you wish for gardening advice?" the older woman asked, drinking from a small cup of tea.

Charlotte nodded, "Yes, I was wondering what plants could be planted this time of year..."

The two spoke of gardening for all of ten minutes until they heard a cry from the kitchen.

It turns out Dudley Dursley was allergic to rhubarb and had been told already not to eat the pie, Charlotte learned as she was left inside the Dursley house alone while the two rushed to the hospital.

What was she supposed to do now?

Charlotte walked down the hall between the front door and the kitchen, along the stairs when she heard something shuffle inside the cupboard under the stairs.

It was locked. The young witch debated with her curiosity for a good minute before a small voice in the back of her mind spoke.

_'A boy...help him.'_

It almost didn't feel like she had a choice as her fingers slid the lock out of place and opened the cupboard.

There was a boy. No older than five. In a cupboard under the stairs at Number 4 Privet Drive.

_'Harry Potter. His name._'

"Excuse me, but does your name happen to be Harry Potter? No one is here, the boy and his mother left for the hospital."

The little boy, with jet black hair and green eyes, shied away from Charlotte and further into the cupboard. She noticed he was awfully skinny for such a little boy and immediately was reminded of the street urchins in those movies she used to watch in America.

The boy did nod, saying, "Yes, my name is Harry Potter."

"Do you want some pie, Harry?"

Luckily, even if the two boys were related, the rhubarb allergy came from Vernon Dursley because little Harry Potter did not have a reaction to the pie. Charlotte cleaned up the pie, leaving an apology note for the Dursleys before leaving.

"Miss?" Harry called from his cupboard, "What's your name?"

Charlotte's silver eyes met Harry's green through the grate, smiling as she said, "I'm Charlotte Johanna Ollivander-Fletcher. I hope we meet again, Harry."

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><p>One must be wondering, why didn't she take Harry away from the Dursleys?<p>

Charlotte just knew she couldn't take him away, her mother would have thrown a fit and it would have caused a lot of trouble for her. So, if Mrs. Dursley made him stay in that cupboard, it should look like he was there the whole time neither of them got in trouble.

Though Charlotte did cause a fire in Mrs. Dursley's garden after seeing Vernon kick Harry. Each time Charlotte saw something bad happen to Harry, there would be a sudden lurch in her magic to make them burn. Usually it was just their yard. Usually.

Occasionally through the summer, Joan would catch Charlotte peeking through a hole in the fence to the Dursley's back yard and would always ask what she was looking for.

Charlotte would always give the same answer, with what her mother called a Slytherin smirk, "I'm learning how to take care of things."

One particularly hot day, Joan realized she had forgotten to give Charlotte her acceptance letter to Hogwarts. It was her first day off between the Ministry and her father. Perhaps it was the first week in June that she remembered receiving the letter personally from Dumbledore as she was helping her father with the books.

It was now July 3rd, and if there ever was a day to go school supply shopping, today was it.

"Rise and shine, we're going to London today!"

Charlotte groggily lifted her head from her pillow and Joan almost cringed at the bed head her daughter had clearly inherited from her father. Joan used a few minor hair spells she picked up from witch's salons to calm her daughter's wild mane of hair after the shower.

When Charlotte's hands habitually went to braid her hair, Joan brushed them away and told her, "I'm sorry I haven't been here as often as I used to, darling, but today you'll be meeting your grandfather for the first time. Let me work some magic on this hair of yours..."

Using her fingers to comb the hair as she dried the curls, the weight of the hair finally dragged the hair into calmer waves that revealed her daughter's kinky curls were much longer than what they had both thought. All the way down her back and then some.

"We should get you a haircut before you leave for school. Scratch that, you are getting a haircut before you go to Diagon Alley."

The salon witch chopped a solid ten inches of length off before actually cutting Charlotte's hair. There were several layers added in that lifted a lot of weight off of the ten-year old's head.

Once done, Charlotte walked around with a slight bobble head until her mother's hand held it in place until they reached Diagon Alley.

"We'll get your wand last, since that will take the longest. How about we see about a pet first?"

Charlotte looked at her mother with a dead stare as she was nearly dragged along to the pet store. Charlotte knew animals didn't like her, and owls frightened the living daylights our of her. Toads were disgusting to touch. The best she could hope for was a nice cat.

Nearing the owl post, Charlotte almost ran into the store just so she could get out faster. The rowdy pet shop was no more rowdy or quiet upon her entering the shop. That was a good sign.

"Wait here, Charlotte, I'll get the assistant to show us the cats specifically."

The ten year old groaned inwardly, wishing she was allergic to cats. There were Kneazles too, but they were like cats and a needed license or something.

The assistant was a young man with a pair of square spectacles and light brown hair, his name was Andrew.

"Choosing a pet is like getting a wand, they choose you, or you choose each other."

Charlotte huffed, "Well, looks like I won't be getting a pet, Mom."

"Charlotte-Johanna, don't say that, you never know."

In all honesty, Joan half-agreed with her daughter as they passed several cats that hissed or hid from Charlotte. They were passing into half-Kneazle and Kneazle territory when Joan almost turned around.

A black and beige tabby patterned Kneazle with glaring green eyes was securely intent on Charlotte's figure. It notably had a small white-beige beard that ended in a tip, reminding her of a severe looking doctor back in America.

Joan tapped Andrew on the shoulder and pointed at the particular Kneazle.

"Oh, him. That's our mystery Kneazle right there, just showed up here 6 years ago and has sat in that cage since. Won't let anyone touch him after he got his shots."

Joan felt something akin to that night six years ago, and as worrying as it was, she guided her daughter towards the Kneazle with the goatee.

Charlotte neared him and immediately had one of those moments where she just _knew_.

"Doc."

The name escaped her in a large breath that left her a little more tired than it should have.

The Kneazle instantly started pawing at the bars to be let out, Andrew opened the cage very quickly, and the cat-like creature reached for Charlotte to be picked up.

_'I missed you.'_

Had the newly dubbed Doc not started hissing when Joan tried to hold him, Joan would have felt a little better about the purchase. The cat wrapped itself around Charlotte's tiny shoulders like a scarf for the duration of the trip and would refuse to get off unless Charlotte put him down herself.

Joan hoped her father wouldn't mind the creature during the wandmaking.

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><p><strong>Peace out, peeps! R&amp;R. <strong>


	4. Chapter 3

**Mini chapter, starring Joan.**

As Joan and her daughter approached her father's shop, she began to remember many memories.

Like on Oct. 30th, 1987, she held her daughter for the first time in an emergency room near O'Hare airport after she had been born at exactly 12:00:01 AM. She was so small, barely more than 5 pounds and 16 inches long. The flight was taxing being 39 months along and the stress of holding a glamour charm for more than 8 hours was the final straw.

The second memory she remembered was the first flat she moved into with newborn Charlotte. She lived there for seven months until the neighborhood became increasingly dangerous. Joan had taken Charlotte out for a walk around the park next to the complex when she had heard the gunshots. There was a brave officer who put himself in front of her and her daughter to take several bullets aimed in her direction.

Magic could have saved that man, but she couldn't be discovered. The young mother took the next best thing and started taking the steps to become a muggle police officer.

The last memory was an event before the first two. When her husband died.

When Joan's husband died, she felt _it_ then too the more she thought about it. She was exactly 6 months and 6 days along and Michael Fletcher was still in Diagon Alley, staying late to work on a rather specific commission dealing with Albus. Michael was special in his field as a "researcher" (he couldn't be more specific?) and his commissions with the Order worried Joan, but she kept her opinions quiet.

Joan felt _it_ as her husband tried to contact her through their mirrors and spoke his last words.

"Love, I'm sorry. They're here and tell our daughter I love her and yousomuch andmy completedresearch isforyouboth, I've-"

Then he was gone. When it was safe to arrive to his study, it was burnt to a crisp.

"Mom?"

Joan didn't realize she had stopped a few steps from the front door.

She looked behind her at the three-way intersection, where at the very corner was a vacated shop that used to make her Ravenclaw heart flutter. Only now it anchored with a very painful weight on her heartstrings.

Looking back at her daughter- _hereyesnothereyes- _"Ah, sorry darling, coming."

The petite blond stumbled on a cobblestone and Charlotte caught her, looking at her mother's misty silver eyes. Charlotte's own eyes were strangely bright and clear, almost matching the whites of her eyes if not for the dark grey ring separating them from the iris.

_NeverbeenhereyesneverevERNOTHEREYESNOTYOURDAUGHTER-_

Joan's magical instincts were screaming at her to attack, but her maternal instinct to protect were just as loud.

Joan was on the verge of fainting.

"...ou okay? Mom? Mom!"

Joan said something under her breath as she heard the bells of the door.

**It's a tough life for Joan, isn't it?**


	5. Chapter 4

**Earlier than usual for my guest reviewers, you two make me happy. :)**

For as many times as Joan tended to overwork herself between jobs, Garrick installed a small bed in the backroom of the shop for her to rest. He honestly saw no need as to why she felt she had to work two jobs, she was well off as just a wandmaker or an enforcer. Between both, that woman was going to strain her magic badly.

As he observed her magical core after she passed out in front of her shop, he started to see the signs of the strain already.

Garrick resolved to have a very serious talk with his daughter after she woke up.

In the meanwhile, he tended to his customer. His granddaughter.

In his register, underneath the coin tray, he kept the letter and the picture that Joan had sent all those years ago. Garrick smiled as he approached Charlotte and hugged her without warning.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," he said as he let go, "your mother speaks of you often."

Charlotte grinned, "Probably about all the fires and explosions."

"Not only that, but I heard you play the piano very well."

Playing the piano was probably the only thing that truly calmed Charlotte, according to Joan, there were no fires or explosions, just music.

"Yeah, I like it a lot."

There was a small pause between the two, then Garrick realized, "Your wand, you need that, right?"

Charlotte's eyes opened very wide, "Right!"

Garrick had her measurements already, the girl was ambidextrous, but her mother was still unconscious in the room next door. He could try to wake her, but the magic required to make a wand would be too much...

"Your mother and I made her wand, a tradition of wandmakers, and we would also do the same to you but there are two issues. Can you name them?"

"My mom is unconscious and you can't do it?"

Garrick shook his head, "The first is true, but neither of you have enough experience to make a wand either. Your mother worked with me for years until she took off to America."

"Can you make my wand?"

"I could, but..."

"My mom."

"Yes."

"Could you just get everything ready for her or something?"

Garrick almost shook his head again, but instead nodded. It matters not who makes the wand, but who carries it.

"Yes, yes, I could. Let's begin, I will take a personal look at your magic and you will tell me what you feel is right."

So they began.

Garrick cast the same spell from when he observed his daughter's core earlier and started guiding in front of her the cores for the wands while keeping her blindfolded.

First he guided her in front of the unicorn hairs, where her core became dimmer and she shook her head immediately. Her mother's was a unicorn hair core, so perhaps she'll be like her father with a dragon heartstring...

The core didn't react at all. Charlotte shrugged.

Upon standing in front of the phoenix feathers, Charlotte jumped as Garrick saw her young core glow.

"I think this is it," she said.

Garrick chuckled, "I think you are correct. But which feather? Choose one carefully."

There were only four left in that drawer as phoenixes were very rare after the War with Grindelwald. Charlotte's hand drifted just above the feathers, grazing them.

To Charlotte, all of them felt amazing. However, the one with the blue tip appealed to her the most just because it was blue and not red or orange.

"Ah, very peculiar...that phoenix feather has been here for a very long time, before me, in fact. My own grandfather had said to me as a young wandmaker that if I ever used it in just some wand to put on the shelf, he would find a way past Death to box my ears every day. Let's move on to the wood..."

Garrick found that the wood was as he guessed when he heard of Charlotte's incidents with fire were not compatible. Every wood dealing with the element of fire was incompatible. He was beginning to feel nervous until she finally put a hand on a piece of ziricote wood.

Quite unexpected.

"I will go see about waking your mother, wait here."

The young girl nodded, still touching the wood.

Joan was just stirring as her father came to wake her, "I've prepared the materials for you, now it's time."

To say that Joan was upset was not true. At least not to what she showed on the outside. Joan was upset that they had to bend tradition for her and she was upset in case her father found out about the spirit.

The spirit wasn't malevolent in any case, it was just taking residence in her daughter somehow. It still worried her since she wondered what exactly happened to her real daughter in the process.

Joan finally got up and went to work on her "daughter's" wand.

Charlotte had moved back into the front of the shop, waiting for her mom to finish her wand, and continued to love on her kneazle.

It took only an hour for the wand to be completely done and Garrick was the one to present the wand to Charlotte.

"Nine and a half inches of ziricote wood with a phoenix feather core. I'd have to say it's your mother's best work by far."

It may just have been the exhaustion, but for the rest of the summer, Joan was more absent from Charlotte's life than ever.

**By next chapter, there will be Hogwarts and the Sorting. Which house do YOU think she'll be in?**


	6. Chapter 5

**You guys make me happy to keep writing this, even when I forget to save and have to rewrite half of it.**

The Hogwarts term started on the 1st of September.

Between July 3rd and September 1st, Charlotte had seen her mother a total of three times and had not talked to her once. She honestly hadn't noticed until she asked Joan a question about a spell and her mother just shrugged and went back to sleep.

For the remainder of the summer, Doc, and very rarely Harry, were the only sentient beings she talked to. Charlotte was never much of a huge talker anyways, but it was her own mother that was ignoring her. Why?

The girl would get a headache just thinking about it. So she worked on the garden or read a book in the meantime, shutting herself away from the hurt.

Charlotte's August garden was filled with daisies, inspired my Mr. Dursley's humming of Daisy Bell as he sat out in his own backyard. It certainly wasn't a bad looking garden, and now that she had her wand, her magic tended to not make fire, but instead help her garden grow.

It was nice and Charlotte was sad to leave her little garden to wilt during the school year.

The third time she saw her mother, it was to take her to the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9 and 3\4.

Joan simply put her hand on Charlotte's shoulder and guided her through the barrier, not coming through herself.

Her eyes stung with hot tears, finally feeling the pure rejection of her mother's actions. Soon enough, they spilled over and Charlotte wiped every single tear away as she got onto the train, bringing Doc along into the first empty compartment she could find. She locked the door for about five minutes to cry fully, wiping tears and a runny nose with her long sleeved button up plaid shirt. When both sleeves were damp with tears, Charlotte changed into her uniform.

As she pulled her robe on, she unlocked the compartment door so others could come in. Doc laid patiently in her lap as many students simply filtered through, not many even sparing a glance at the red eyed first year with a kneazle in her lap.

That is, until two other first year boys decided that there was nowhere else to sit except her compartment.

The first one to introduce himself was tall and skinny, with tanned skin and brown hair, "Hi, I'm Nathaniel McCoy, do you mind if we sit here? Everywhere else is full."

Charlotte shook her head and the two shuffled in, at least the other boy did. He was shorter than Nathaniel, and rounder. He had long black hair that hung in his pale face, but not greasy at all. Maybe a little dry actually.

Nathaniel continued to talk to Charlotte, "What's your name?"

"I'm," Charlotte paused, clearing her throat, "Charlotte Fletcher. Who is your friend?"

Nathaniel looked at his friend, who was still very quiet, "This is my best friend, Shane Wright."

Shane finally looked up far enough for Charlotte to make eye contact with him. He had very light blue eyes. The eye contact only lasted a moment as he suddenly looked back down to his hands.

"He's a bit shy, he is. So where are you from, you're accent definitely isn't from Britain, America?"

"Yeah, I'm from the Midwest. Illinois, mostly. We moved around the state for awhile..."

The two chatted on about the States until Shane finally said something that Charlotte didn't catch.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Why are you coming to Hogwarts if you're from America?" his voice was very soft. A little high too.

"Oh, my mom decided to come back to work with my grandfather."

Shane asked on, "Who's your grandfather?"

"Garrick Ollivander, he owns a wand shop."

Nathaniel's mouth opened to a big 'o', "That's your grandfather? I knew your eyes were familiar!"

Shane didn't say anymore, but he occasionally laughed at the conversation until the topic of Houses came up. The train was starting to slow.

"I think I'll be in Gryffindor," Nate had said, and to Charlotte's surprise Shane had said something different.

"Maybe Ravenclaw or Slytherin."

Charlotte thought about it and still couldn't come up with an answer, "I honestly don't know. Ravenclaw like my mother, maybe."

Once the train came to a stop, the first years were called together by the lake by a giant of a man.

_'His name is Rubeus Hagrid. Very friendly, but not the brightest when it comes to safety.'_

Charlotte jumped, the small voice was becoming more than just a small voice. This was how she _knew_ things, but it's never been so direct or loud before...

"Is this all o' ye? Four to a boat at the most! You lot are a small class, so ever'one should 'ave a boat!"

It ended up like the train, where Charlotte had chosen a boat that was empty, but no one would get in with her.

Except Shane.

The pudgy boy was careful getting into the boat before it took off, and Charlotte looked at him with a smile.

"Thank you."

Shane shrugged, "Nathaniel ditched me for a boat with three cute girls. And you're the only person I know besides him."

"Still...thanks."

Shane shrugged again, looking over the edge of the boat.

Charlotte sincerely hoped that Shane would end up being a friend.

When the first years entered the castle, Charlotte and Shane found themselves at the front of the group when Peeves struck with a nasty green slime.

"Look at the ickle little firsties! All covered in slime right before their time! Ooooh hoo hoo!" the poltergeist cackled until a very stern looking witch came storming from the doors of the Great Hall with a bloodied ghost following behind her.

"Peeves! Get out of here!" the ghost had said, leaving Peeves a pile of matching slime on the floor before taking his mess with him.

The older witch started to speak, "That is Peeves, our host poltergeist. Should you ever need to be rid of him, find the Bloody Baron. I am Professor McGonagall and beyond these doors is the Great Hall where you will be sorted into your Houses. When you are sorted into these Houses, you become part of a family for your time here at Hogwarts. Am I clear?"

A general, "yes, Professor" was among the small first years.

"Then follow me."

Charlotte and Shane let themselves fall behind this time.

**I will be honest, I based Shane and Nathaniel off of two old friends of mine in looks and their friendship. Though definitely not their personalities. And I also gypped this chapter of it's truest potential after half of it was deleted. I'll rewrite it when I finish the story.**


	7. Chapter 6

**And here we go...**

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><p>In such a small class, the Sorting was not bound to take long. It would be about eight first years per House, give or take a few. The Sorting Hat sat upon the stool, singing its song for the year about the Houses, and Charlotte stood completely drenched in nerves.<p>

"Button, Abigail!"

The Sorting would begin and Charlotte didn't know where she would go.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuffs cheered as they received the first new student of the year. Charlotte wrung her hands in her robe, and Shane looked as calm as ever despite the curtain of hair in his face.

Another for Hufflepuff, three for Gryffindor, and one for Ravenclaw...

The last names beginning with F went and came, Charlotte assumed she was written under Ollivander then. The delay did nothing to deter her nerves.

Two to Slytherin, two more for Gryffindor, one for Hufflepuff and four for Ravenclaw...

"Ollivander, Charlotte!"

In fact, she had barely heard her name. Shane had pushed her forward lightly and yet her feet were like magnets to the floor. They didn't want to move up to the stool, they didn't want for whatever was in her head to be discovered by the Hat. They were scared.

Charlotte was terrified.

Seconds seemed so much longer as she finally sat upon the stool and the old hat was sat upon her head.

Then time stopped.

A new voice spoke in her mind, "_Well, this is very interesting...I haven't been this awake in a long time._"

Huh?

"_You are quite the cunning little child, aren't you? I know where to put you..."_

Charlottle never believed herself to be that cunning, but she supposed that would put her in Slytherin. With the ambitious, the _cunning_, and the snakes...

"SLYTHERIN!"

Charlotte bounced down to the Slytherin table with the two other first years, a boy and a girl. The boy was scrawny and had rather pointed features, like a rodent. His name was Riley Harris. The girl appeared more doll like than a human, with porcelain skin, dark blue eyes, and dark red hair, her name was Moira Sinclair. Both of them were purebloods.

"Ollivander, like the wandmaker?" a fourth year asked Charlotte.

She nodded, sucking in her lower lip. Several other Slytherins inconspicously shuffled closer towards her.

"Quiet now," McGonagall said, "McCoy, Nathaniel!"

The tanned boy sat on the stool and barely had two seconds with the Hat before it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Charlotte's attention wavered as she observed the Head Table, where a frazzled woman was running to sit down in an empty seat at the end. Her hair was thrown up in a thick messy bun, showing her young face and sweaty complexion. Who was that?

"Check out the new Defense teacher..."

"Late? How unprofessional..."

"I heard she was actually decent, brave enough to take on this job anyways..."

Joan had mentioned to Charlotte how the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was cursed by You Know Who. No teacher had lasted longer than a year, they had either died or incidents lead to them having to leave.

"Weasley, Fred!"

Charlotte turned back to the Sorting, there were two left to sort, Shane and one the two red headed twins.

Who were currently trying to figure out who was who.

"You're not Fred, I am!"

"George, stay back. Oh, wait, I'm-!"

McGonagall snapped, "One of you come up here!"

Her face visibly became whiter when she heard two consecutive calls for Gryffindor. Charlotte felt sorry for the woman.

"Oh...Wright, Shane!"

Charlotte crossed her fingers.

"SLYTHERIN!"

That made two girls, and four boys in the Slytherin first year group, overall, the smallest group of the first year houses.

"Good evening, everyone!" Dumbledore stood, quieting the hall, "I have very few announcements to make, so don't worry, you will eat very soon. I will begin with introducing our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, madam?"

The woman stood at an average height, "Hello, I am Professor Ambrosia, it is a pleasure to be here this year to teach all of you. See you in class."

Charlotte dismissed the woman as very plain, she wasn't amazingly pretty or anything.

Not that the next one would be either.

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><p>In this story we are going to take a major timeskip because there is just nothing truly interesting in store for our little Charlotte here until her little neighbor next door is bombarded with owls. There will be a few points made that will be important for the remainder of this story.<p>

1) Does Snape hate Charlotte? No, in fact, he doesn't mind her since she does her work with the Wright boy quietly and efficiently. He is her Head of House after all.

2) How does Charlotte do in school? Charlotte, as a general student, does well in her classes, getting Os and maybe an E in History of Magic. She is probably third in her class behind two Ravenclaws. Moira and herself study together with Shane occasionally, but no one ever interacted with her much except the Weasley twins that one time second year with the Valentines day flower explosion in Herbology.

She didn't tell Professor Sprout who it was when she was the only one who had seen. They thanked her with two of the surviving roses.

3) Do Nathaniel and Shane remain friends? Only out of school, but by third year there is some...tension between the two.

4) Is Charlotte ever bullied in her first and second year? Yes, by two fourth year Gryffindors her first year when she wandered too close the Fat Lady in pink.

Though a cute second year by the name of Cedric Diggory managed to divert their attention long enough for Charlotte to cast body binds on the two Gryffindors and get out of sight. Charlotte has found herself looking at him more often since, as well as casting an occasional hex at the two Gryffindors from around the corner.

5) Any other questions from you all I will answer in the beginning of the next chapter.

**That's it until next time. I might just make a side story to delve into those missing years, but not now. You all know how Hogwarts works.**


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